


The Longest Night

by Kedavranox



Series: But, In Dreams [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Astral Projection, Detox, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Seer Lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 08:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kedavranox/pseuds/Kedavranox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>48 hours since he began his detox, Harry begins to have a few special complications.</p><p>Set in the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/846553">But In Dreams</a> Universe. Occurs immediately after the fic closes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for who asked for ' _Scenario: The longest night  
>  Kinks/Special Requests/Verse: But, In Dreams or Death's Dream Kingdom _
> 
> , this turned into something much longer, so I'm posting it in parts. I hope it satisfies...!  
> unbeta'd. Please forgive any errors.

**Warnings (Highlight to view)** :*Mentions of Drug Use*

 

**The Longest Night**

The whoosh of the Floo echoes in the sitting room, but Draco remains perched on the couch where Harry lies, prone and sweaty and entirely unresponsive. Draco pushes Harry’s sodden hair back with a cool cloth, wiping his face with a slightly shaky hand. When Samuel enters the room in a bustle of robes, bringing with him Draco’s potions equipment, Draco reluctantly leaves Harry’s side. He helps Samuel set the heavy potions case on the floor, quickly flips open the lid, and scans the contents.

Samuel shrugs out of his robes, letting them floor to the floor, and carefully removes his head scarves. ‘How long?’ he says.

‘About a half an hour,’ Draco says, his voice thin. ‘I gave him something to calm him down.’ Draco grabs a few vials and sets it on the coffee table. Samuel kneels beside Harry, waving his wand over his still form very carefully.

Draco looks down at them both with his hands in his pockets. ‘Samuel, I didn’t realise it would send him under. Is he projecting, do you think?’

Samuel rests his hand over Harry’s forehead and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, there’s a flicker of dread that makes Draco’s heart race. ‘He is,’ Samuel says. ‘And he’s gone further than I can reach from here.’

Draco glances at Harry. ‘What does that mean?’

‘It means one of us will have to help him out of the the projection. He’s too deep in the plane to find his way out on his own.’

‘Then I’ll do it,’ Draco says. ‘I’m his Contact. I’ve done it before.’

Samuel looks at him, his hazel eyes contemplative. Finally, he shakes his head. ‘No,’ he says. ‘He needs another Seer.’ He lifts one of Harry’s wrists, and it flops lifelessly backwards.

Draco presses his lips and looks away. ‘Sam, did I do this?’ he asks quietly.

Samuel shakes his head. ‘Nothing _you_ did put Harry in this position. He’s been dependent on potions for so long, he doesn't’ know how to manage his Sight without it. It’s my fault more than anything. I should have seen this coming.’

‘But I--’

Samuel’s fierce gaze snaps up to Draco’s. ‘I need you to focus. How long has it been since he began the detox?’

Draco swallows. ‘Just over forty-eight hours,’ he says. He rubs his face in his palms and laughs bitterly. ‘I couldn’t even get him through forty-eight hours.’

‘Draco, look at me,’ Samuel says. ‘This is an extremely difficult case. Harry is a drug dependent, powerful wizard with unstable magic _and_ foresight. His detox will be unpredictable. We just need to use our skills to get him back. Then we help him through this. Do you understand?’

Draco closes his eyes briefly and then he nods. ‘Okay.’

‘Good,’ Samuel stands up straight, nodding towards the vials of potions on the table. ‘Which one’s the potion you told me about?’

 

~

Harry’s never been this deep into the Astral plane before. It’s colder here. And darker.

Harry pulls the hood of his sweater over his head and hunches his shoulders against the wind.

He shouldn’t be delving quite so deep into the plane without first having been grounded, but he has no idea how he got here in the first place. One minute, he’s in his usual meadow projection, the other, he’s booted into this dark place he's never even seen before. Try as he might, he can’t pull himself out of the projection. His Sight is intolerably unstable and his magic is restlessly churning around inside him, looking for something to lash out against.

Yet, his craving for Somus and Icarus are less than a small itch in his brain, unlike the battering ram of need it is back on mortal world.

With each jump he makes, moving around the plane in some sort of random Apparition, he can also feel his _ba_ growing weak, thin and spread out. His instinct is screaming at him to turn back, to leave the projection, but every step further is like pushing his heels into quicksand.

Exhausted, he staggers to the earth into limp heap.

Exhaustion is a physical sensation. He shouldn’t feel it so keenly here. Everything is wrong.

Harry flops onto his back and closes his eyes. Oh, but he’s tired. .

_that’s because you’re dangerously close to passing from this life to the next._

Harrys eyes fly open and he sits up too fast, making his head spin.

_sam?_

_yes, harry. i need you to get up, and walk towards me. now._

_i don't know where you are._

_yes you do. follow my energy. can’t you feel it?_

_yes._ Harry pushes himself up on his feet swaying slightly. _sam, i’m so tired. couldn't i just stay?_

_do you want to stay, harry?_

He thinks of Draco waiting for him on the other side. Ron. Hermione. With a deep breath, Harry puts one foot in front of the other. _no. i don’t_

_good. come on then._

Harry does so, pushing through the discomfort and staggering forward slowly. The more distance he puts between himself and the cold, dark place, the stronger he becomes. After some distance, with Samuel’s constant encouragement in his head, he spots the faint outline of Samuel’s typical Egyptian garb - thin linen shirt and trousers. Harry staggers into him, and Samuel hugs him tightly.

As the other occupants of the plane return to his consciousness, his spirit feels lighter, and invigorated. The meadow flickers in his sight, and he sighs in relief.

Samuel holds onto his shoulders tightly. ‘Why did you wander so far?’

‘I don’t know.' Harry says, breathing deeply. 'One minute I was safe, the other I was thrown too deep inside the plane. Then I wandered. I don’t know what’s going on, Sam.’

Samuel frowns at him, his thick brows furrowing. ‘You shouldn’t be on the plane at all if you're projecting against your will.' He looks around nervously, his trousers flapping in the wind. 'You don't have control. You’ve not been grounded by your Contact. We have to get you out of here before I lose you again. Can you concentrate at all? Focus on your _ba_?’

A sharp pain echoes like a gong in Harry’s head, and he doubles over, clutching his temple. ‘Ow fuck.’

Samuel clasps his wrists.

_focus on my voice harry. follow me._

harry

\-- harry!

~  
End Part I


	2. Chapter 2

**The Longest Night: Part II**

  
  
When Samuel begins to stir and Harry remains disturbingly still, Draco’s heart sinks. He closes his eyes briefly and squeezes Harry’s cold hand a little tighter in his palm.  
  
Samuel shifts in his conjured cot and lifts one weak hand to his face. With a groan, he slowly sits upright, clutching his head  
  
Draco carefully releases Harry’s hand and checks his vitals again. His heart rate is above average, but not quite as far into the danger zone as it was earlier.  
  
He crosses the room and kneels in front of Samuel, lightly shaking his shoulders. ‘What happened?’  
  
‘I lost him,’ Samuel says tiredly. ‘He’s slipping.’  
  
Draco sits back on his haunches and his heart pounds painfully in his chest. ‘What do you mean  _you lost him_? Go back in at get him.’  
  
Samuel shakes his head. ‘It’s not that simple, Draco.’  
  
‘What’s not simple? You’re a Seer. His trainer. You should be able to help him get out. Why do you think I called you here?’  
  
Samuel gaze flicks to Harry’s still form, then he sighs. ‘Draco. There are few things about Harry’s gift that you don’t know.’  
  
Samuel picks up his wand from on the bed beside him and turns it absently in his fingers. ‘You have to understand, there aren’t many of us out there. Seers, I mean.  _My_  affinity is for foresight. Harry’s affinity is for communing with the dead. He projects onto the plane as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. But it isn’t. Even if I tried again, I won’t find him. I was lucky before. He’s hopping all over the place because he has no control.’  
  
‘You're supposed to be teaching him control.’  
  
‘I’ve done the best I can. But I'm not succeeding. That’s why they brought you in. You're good at control - Legilimency, helping Harry build shields. That’s why the Ministry hired you. No one’s been able to work with him like you do.’ Samuel shakes his head and stows his wand in his sleeve. ‘There’s not been a Seer like him for years. You don't know how important he is. How vital he is to the Ministry.’  
  
Draco stands, backing away from Samuel with a deep scowl on his face. ‘Is that why you’re here? To secure your investment?’  
  
Samuel stands as well, squaring his shoulders as if preparing for a fight. ‘Don't be daft, Draco. I care about Harry just as much as you.  
  
‘If you did, you wouldn’t be fucking with his head. Not when you don’t even know what you’re doing.’  
  
‘I’m not fucking with his head! Harry knew what he was getting into. He knew that I wasn't sure it would work. But he did it anyway. Because that’s the kind of man he is. He wants to help people.’  
  
Draco looks down at Harry - pale and lifeless and completely unaware of what’s happening around him. ‘And now it’s killing him.'  
  
Samuel lightly touches his shoulder. ‘Draco, Harry is a Seer whether or not he uses his Sight to help the Ministry. It cant’t  _turn off_  the way you want it to.’  
  
Draco turns away and returns to Harry’s side, pushing Harry’s sweat soaked hair off his forehead and checking his vitals again.. Harry doesn’t even stir, his faded scar stands out starkly against his sweat soaked skin.  
  
‘No, no no no,’ Draco murmurs. ‘Sam, we have to do something now. His heart is racing.’  
  
Samuel looks down at them both, his hands stuffed into his pockets. ‘Draco,’ he says quietly. ‘No one’s ever gone that deep into the Plane and come back.’  
  
Draco casts a cooling charm on Harry, and holds his hand fiercely. ‘Harry will come back,’ he says. ‘You just have to think of something we can do. There must be some part of this that you’re actually fucking good at!’  
  
The comment seems to to jolt Samuel into action. He pulls his wand from his sleeve, and a muscle in his jaw twitches. ‘A small, sustained pull on his senses might,  _might_  be able to bring him back. But he’s going to hate me for it.’ Samuel glances at Draco briefly. ‘And so may you.’  
  
‘What does that mean?’  
  
Samuel pushes Draco aside brandishes his wand.  _‘Crucio!’_  
  
Harry’s body jolts and then twists, jerking and spasming under the pain of the Cruciatus.  
  
Draco whimpers softly, immobilised by shock. It’s been years since he’s seen the Cruciatus in action...  _years_  since he heard anyone scream under the spell.  
  
Harry’s suffering is entirely silent. Somehow, this makes things even worse.  
  
When Samuel lifts the spell, Harry falls limply to the bed, his head lolling to the left. Draco scrambles up of the ground and crawls over to Harry’s side to check his pulse.  
  
It’s racing, fluttering against Draco’s fingers like butterfly wings. Harry’s eyes track restlessly beneath his lids. ‘You're making it worse,’ Draco says, gasping. ‘He’s not waking up.’  
  
Samuel lifts his wand again. ‘Step aside, Draco.’  
  
‘Are you fucking crazy—? It’s not working! I won’t let you—’  
  
Samuel roughly pushes Draco to the ground and he falls heavily onto his back, his teeth clacking together painfully.  
  
Samuel casts the Cruciatus curse again, and Harry’s body twists again in silent agony.  
  
 _‘Stop!’_  
  
Draco grabs Samuel’s ankle and tackles him to the ground, grappling with him for his wand and prying it from his fingertips. When he's certain he has the upper hand, Draco pushes himself into a sitting position and points the wand in Samuel’s face.  
  
‘You fucking lunatic!’ Draco cries, scrambling back to Harry’s side to check his vitals.  
  
Draco barely rests his hand on Harry’s forehead when his eyes open wide, and Harry sits up with a gasp, leaning over and covering his face with his palm.  
  
‘Harry!’  
  
Harry looks up at him blearily. ‘Draco,’ he says, voice faint .  
  
Draco hesitantly touches his back, and Harry flinches away. ‘Don’t. Don’t. Everything hurts.’  
  
Samuel appears at Draco’s side, his clothes askew. Draco swallows and silently hands him back his wand without looking him in the eye.  
  
‘Who did it?’ Harry asks quietly.  
  
‘Did what?’  
  
‘The Cruciatus, who did it?’  
  
Sam kneels in front of the sofa. ‘I did.’  
  
Harry looks up at him, his eyes wide. ‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘I couldn’t get back. I kept trying.’  
  
Draco sighs with relief and sits next to Harry, silently casting another check on his vitals. His heart-rate is still too high. Harry leans against him, pressing his sweaty back onto Draco’s side.  
  
Samuel gently rests his hand on Harry's knee. ‘No need to thank me,’ he says.  
  
Harry pulls his knees into his chest, caught in a sudden wave of violent shaking.  
  
Draco casts Samuel a worried look, and Samuel nods almost imperceptibly. His eyes flick to the left and for a moment, he seems very far away. When he looks at Draco again, his gaze seems to slowly clear. ‘His friends are coming,’ he says. ‘Ron and Hermione. They’ll be here soon. I should go.’  
  
Harry reaches out weakly for him. ‘You could stay. Pretend to be a Healer or something?  
  
Samuel tenderly touches Harry’s shoulder. ‘Things are going to be difficult enough without four people traipsing around you, Harry. I’ll be back to check on you soon.’  
  
Sam nods to Draco, and then looks meaningfully at the doorway.  
  
‘Harry, I’ll be right back,’ Draco says, getting up carefully and placing a cushion on the sofa for Harry to lean on.  
  
Harry doesn’t respond, he only closes his eyes and leans against the cushion very gingerly.  
  
Draco follows Samuel into the kitchen, anxiously glancing back at Harry a few times on the way.  
  
‘Don’t give him anything that might make him sleep,’ Samuel says once they’re out of earshot.  
  
‘Sam, every substitute for  _Somnus_  and  _Icarus_  has some form of depressive agent. What am I supposed to do?’  
  
‘You  _can’t use_  a substitute, Draco.’  
  
‘I have to wean him off,’ he whispers. ‘I can’t just cut him off. That will be torture.’  
  
Samuel sighs, glancing past Draco into the sitting room. ‘Unfortunately, Harry has to do this the hard way. We can’t chance another projection.’  
  
Draco turns to look at Harry. He’s sitting with eyes closed, hugging himself tightly on the sofa. ‘Samuel, I’m not sure...’  
  
‘Draco you’ll get him though this. You have to.’  
  
Harry suddenly opens his eyes and meets Draco's gaze. He smiles weakly and mouths the words  _‘Come back here.’_  with a raised eyebrow.  
  
Draco gives him a small smile and then sighs. He turns to Samuel. ‘Okay,’ he says. ‘I’ll owl you again if I need help.’  
  



	3. Chapter 3

The Longest Night: Part III

At first it is simply pain.

Harry is quite used to pain, but even the headaches after a walk on the Plane are nothing compared to this.

With his friends distracting him and Draco pressed against his side, he shoulders the brunt of the pain rather stoically.

Ron and Hermione keep him awake with games of Exploding Snap –which is eventually abandoned all together when the throbbing in his head reaches a particularly high point.

They move onto raunchier card games, until Hermione’s cheeks are pink with embarrassment, and Ron starts to become rather indignant about Harry’s questions about his sex life with Blaise.

‘I’m just curious which one of you catches the Snitch,’ Harry murmurs, nudging Ron with his foot.

Ron gathers all cards together and starts shuffling them in his hands in an agitated sort of way. ‘I have no idea why you think I should tell you that.’

‘Come on, we’re mates,’ Harry says. ‘I told you about Draco and me.’

Draco pokes Harry’s thigh. ‘You did what?’

‘It’s not such a big deal! What a pair of prudes you are.’

Ron stares rather determinedly at the cards in his palm and Hermione clears her throat across the room.

‘Let’s talk about something else, shall we?’

Draco nods beside him, his cheeks slightly pink. ‘Yes, let’s do.’

So they spend the next few hours talking about the most random things; Ron’s thoughts on Hermione’s hair potions, Draco’s frighteningly odd questions on dentistry, and Hermione's very delicately phrased question about what 'catching the Snitch' really means —until Harry finds himself beginning to tune out most of the conversation.

It was barely after five in the evening when Ron and Hermione showed up, but now it’s almost ten and Harry’s cravings for even the smallest of hits is becoming almost unbearable. He pulls the hood of his sweater over his head and starts to grind his teeth together because somehow, in his mind, it helps.

So far, it feels like he’s doing a good job pretending the cravings aren’t really getting to him. He doesn’t want to make things worse. Ron keeps side eyeing him. Hermione has a death grip on her wand. His own wand was hidden from him hours ago. Draco’s already tense with nerves, and he fusses over Harry constantly. On one hand, it’s really reassuring and sweet, but on the other hand it’s driving Harry slowly mad.

By eleven, Harry is sitting on the sofa with his eyes closed, his thigh bouncing like a jack hammer, while the others chatter softly beside him. He keeps going through all his hiding places in his head and wondering if maybe Ron missed a spot. He spends a few minutes like this — checking and rechecking — checking and rechecking, going through ever single room of his flat in his mind’s eye, all the places a forgotten stash might be.

Perhaps there’s a place he forgot to mention to Ron when Ron cleaned out his flat. There must be something. Maybe he stashed some tablets in the bathroom and forgot about it. Maybe there’s one in the empty jars or bowls or drawers in his kitchen. All he needs is one.

He should just take a quick look around the house.

Just to see.

Harry opens his eyes and catches Ron staring at him as though he knows exactly what Harry is thinking. He quickly looks away and focuses instead on Draco, who is checking Harry's vitals again, his too-long hair falling into his face.

‘I’m sure they’re not that different from ten minutes ago,’ Harry's says tersely.

Draco raises an eyebrow. ‘I have to keep checking,’ he says.

Harry scowls and looks away. ‘It’s fucking annoying,’ he says beneath his breath.

Draco lowers his wand and then -of course- Harry feels like shit for saying anything at all.

Hermione is beginning to fall asleep on herself, and when it’s almost quarter to midnight, she apologetically relents and slowly takes the stairs to Harry’s spare room. Draco follows to help her find some lines and an extra toothbrush, and Harry sighs with some relief when he’s gone.

If only Ron could leave the room as well. Harry could simply nip into the hallway bath and take quick look—

‘Don’t even think about it,’ Ron says softly.

Harry sits up straight and pushes back his hood. ‘What, are you reading my mind now?’

‘I don’t have to read your mind, Harry, it’s all over your face.’

'You know,' Harry says. ‘I could just Apparate right now.’

Ron scoffs and rolls his eyes. ‘Not even you could Apparate without your wand. Especially with the state you’re in.’

Draco’s footsteps echo on the landing, and the sound of his soft voice telling Hermione goodnight floats down the stairs.

Harry slides forward on the couch until he’s barely perched on the end and drops his head in his palms. ‘I can’t,’ he says quietly. ‘I can’t.’

Ron doesn’t say anything and Harry drops his hands and looks up at him incredulously. ‘Can’t you hear what I’m saying? I can’t do this. It thought I could, but I’m sorry. I can’t. I need something to take the edge off.’

Out of the corner of his eyes, he spots Draco slowly making his way down the last few stairs. Harry sighs and looks at him and Draco’s expression wavers between concern and obvious disappointment.

‘Oh fuck you, Malfoy,’ Harry says. ‘Could you do this? Could you just quit like this?’

Draco stuffs his hands in his pockets an steps forward a bit. ‘No,’ he says. ‘I‘m not sure I could.’

Harry looks between them. ‘Neither of you could. You have no idea what this is like.’

Draco opens his mouth to speak again, but Ron cuts him off. ‘Draco, just give us a minute will you?’

Draco hesitates, lingering in the doorway. ‘Ron…’

‘Draco, please. Just a minute?’

Draco nervously flexes his fingers and then briefly nods. ‘A minute,’ he says. ‘That’s all.’

He gives Harry another worried look, and a burst of shame scalds Harry’s insides. He looks away and Draco slips into the kitchen.

Ron pulls his chair in close. His jumper smells of Blaise’s expensive cologne and Harry swallows down a wave of nausea. ‘Harry. Look at me,' Ron says. 'This isn’t you. You’re stronger than this.’

Harry laughs weakly. ‘God. I wish people would stop saying that about me.’ He gives Ron a withering look. ‘It’s all bullshit Ron, don’t you know that by now?’

For a second, Ron looks very close to hitting him. ‘I’m going to ignore that,’ he says. He sighs and moves to sit beside Harry on the sofa. ‘Look, mate, I know this is hard. But you just have to get through tonight first. Take it one hour at a time.’

Harry leans back against the sofa and pulls his knees into his chest. ‘You don’t know what this is like, Ron,’ he says. ‘It’s not like craving a fucking chocolate frog.’

Ron nudges his shoulder hard, and Harry glares at him. ‘First,’ Ron says. ‘You’ve got to stop acting like a dick. Before you say something you regret. Especially to Draco. Because then you’ll feel even more like shit and make everything worse.’

Harry sighs and looks up at the ceiling. It seems very far away all of a sudden. ‘I know.’

‘You’ll can do this, Harry, I know it.’

Harry closes his eyes again, and Ron squeezes his shoulder. ‘I’m going get you a clean sweater.’

Harry doesn’t open his eyes when Ron leaves, but he does when Draco’s familiar smell fills his nostrils. Draco sits beside him, and absently check his vitals again. ‘He’s right, you know,' he say, stowing his wand in his sleeve. 'This first night just feels like the longest, but it’ll get better. You are strong, Harry.’

Harry laughs. God. He really really hates it when people say that. It always seems like such an accusation.

Harry leans back against the sofa, and laughs again. He laughs until Draco pulls him close and wraps his arms around him and suddenly he’s not laughing anymore.

‘Hey,’ Draco says softly, rubbing slow circles into his back.

Harry presses his face against the soft cotton fabric of Draco’s jumper and closes his eyes against his sudden, hot tears.

‘Harry don’t…’ Draco pulls away and holds Harry’s face in his palms, his grey eyes wide. He rests his forehead on Harry’s. ‘I’ll get you through this.’

Embarrassed, Harry only sniffs and tries to pull away, but Draco doesn’t let him. After a moment of awkward fumbling, in which Harry tries to hide his face, and Draco smacks his hands firmly away, he kisses Harry firmly on the mouth. ‘Let’s just get through tonight,’ he says. ‘I’m not going anywhere.

Harry swallows and nods faintly, and Draco kisses his forehead. When, two seconds later, Draco whispers the charm to check his vitals again a warm but exasperated laugh comes bubbling up from Harry's chest.

Ron comes back in with a new hooded sweater, making lots of noise so that Harry and Draco aren’t caught unawares. Draco helps Harry peel off his sweat-soaked sweater and then casts a light cleansing charm on his skin before helping him pull on the clean sweater, and Harry is left feeling much more comfortable than before.

When they all settle again, Ron looks almost ready to fall over.

‘Ron, mate, you can go to sleep,’ Harry says, rubbing his eyes.

Ron shakes his head. ‘Let’s play one of those card games you showed me,’ he says. ‘If you win, I’ll tell you who catches the Snitch.’

Draco rolls his eyes, but Harry smiles and says. ‘I’m in.’

-fin


End file.
